


Wolf and Hunter

by writing_ramblings



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 02:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17458802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_ramblings/pseuds/writing_ramblings
Summary: They might love blowjobs in the forgotten corners around base, hand teasing the other under briefing tables, quick fucks against walls in abandoned rooms, and every dirty thing they can do to the other. But both are guilty of loving, of wanting to kiss the other until their lungs burn. That’s how their affair started. Hanna had dared Hanzo to kiss Jesse, to make the first move since Jesse had named him in a round of truth or dare. The kiss had been brief, Jesse felt the ghost through the night and Hanzo couldn’t stop seeing Jesse’s face up close and lovingly every time he closed his eyes. They love kisses that get their knees weak and their heads dizzy. Kisses that make them feel time has gone too fast. Like decades have passed and they open their eyes to meet again in another life. The kind of kisses that open doors to alternative worlds where they met young and had all the time in the world.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Or the one McCree and Hanzo are in a secluded cabin, continuing their relationship that consists of sex, but feelings come out.





	Wolf and Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> Posted a while back on tumblr, but after The Thing, happened, I might start reposting some stuff here.
> 
> You can still find me on [Tumblr](http://hellagaymccree.tumblr.com/)  
> And now on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/hellagaymccree)

Jesse lowers his mug when he hears the patting of soft steps approaching him. He smiles fondly at the archer as he brushes his wet black hair with his fingers. Jesse isn’t afraid to look at Hanzo all he wants, as long as the other man says otherwise. He even kind of likes it when Hanzo forbids him such sight. Hanzo bears nothing but a white towel around his hips. His porcelain skin still glowing from the shower and clear of hair except for a trail down his navel and in his armpits. A few drops of water map the archer’s body and face, causing Jesse a fierce thirst as he swallows. He will never get tired of looking at Hanzo’s body, of tangling his fingers with those dark locks or hearing his name come with praises out of Hanzo’s mouth. His tattoo contrast beautifully even in the dim lighting of the cabin. His chest has a slight blush from the hot water and his nipples are perky, asking for Jesse to give them attention.

“Once you’re done, I’ll be ready.” Hanzo smiles before walking back to the room he came from. Letting his scent in the air for Jesse to follow.

“Right behind ya, sugar,” Jesse calls before finishing the remains of his coffee and placing the mug in the sink.

The archer waits with his back facing the gunslinger, unafraid of a rogue bullet. Jesse admires the curves of his sides, his shoulder blades carved on marvel and the arc of his spine. He gazes the trail down to where the edge of the towel is. Hanzo looks over his shoulder as Jesse approaches cautiously, afraid the wolf might attack. He places his hands on Hanzo’s hips, his metal thumb frost biting into Hanzo’s skin and earning a hiss. Jesse’s lips brush the shoulder blades where he imagines majestic blue wings would come out; royal as the ones the dragon on his tattoo carries. Hanzo turns in Jesse’s arm and the towel falls around his feet. Jesse almost looks—he wants to look—but the hold in his hair reminds him Hanzo doesn’t want him to. Not yet. Jesse satisfies himself by kissing the other man’s neck, collarbones, tattoo and chest. He lets his mechanical fingers play with Hanzo’s right nipple while his mouth takes care of the left one. He can slowly feel Hanzo letting the threads fall lose. He’s untangling himself around Jesse, letting the cowboy slowly under his skin. Jesse believes Hanzo is hypnotized enough to sneak a peek at the hard cock that pokes his own, tenting his sweatpants. But Hanzo pulls sharply at his hair, causing the cowboy to chuckle lightly as he kisses up the archer’s lips.

Once they kiss, Jesse feels he can breathe again, even if Hanzo’s drinking the air out of his lungs. The heat that had lingered on the archer’s skin from the shower as vanished, but his cheeks flush from the warmth between the lovers. He pulls Jesse closer by the neck of his loose shirt then tugs at the edges until its off and thrown to a corner. Without tearing his gaze from Hanzo’s crystalized eyes, Jesse pulls down and steps out of his pants. The wolf walks backwards, as if he’s trying to lure the gunslinger into the darkest parts of the room, away from the moonlight shining through the window. Once Jesse’s near enough, he slithers his arm around Hanzo’s waist and clash together in a searing kiss.

They might love blowjobs in the forgotten corners around base, hand teasing the other under briefing tables, quick fucks against walls in abandoned rooms, and every dirty thing they can do to the other. But both are guilty of loving, of wanting to kiss the other until their lungs burn. That’s how their affair started. Hanna had dared Hanzo to kiss Jesse, to make the first move since Jesse had named him in a round of truth or dare. The kiss had been brief, Jesse felt the ghost through the night and Hanzo couldn’t stop seeing Jesse’s face up close and lovingly every time he closed his eyes. They love kisses that get their knees weak and their heads dizzy. Kisses that make them feel time has gone too fast. Like decades have passed and they open their eyes to meet again in another life. The kind of kisses that open doors to alternative worlds where they met young and had all the time in the world.

Once both have gotten on their knees and wrote praises with their tongues around the other’s cock, and both had been prepared, Hanzo rides Jesse to his pace; slow and torturous. It was going to be a simple night, no toys—other than the plug tucked between Jesse’s butt cheeks—no ropes, few bites and scratches, and it was going to be smoothly. Until Jesse opened his eyes after keeping them close to listen carefully at Hanzo’s sweet sounds, and the air was knocked out of him with the image above him. The moon had shifted, along with its splendor. It was illuminating Hanzo perfectly, a moment worth of a renaissance painting that would capture his parted, swollen pink lips, trace neatly his muscles and curves, and paint his hair dark as the night. Jesse’s wished he could write on Hanzo’s skin with black ink an epic poem of the way his moans were the cries of a god that had found a lover. How his eyes shivered like it held stars concealed in them. How threads of silver cascaded between his black hair. And how his body was carved by devils to tempt weak mortals, forbidden lovers, naïve travelers and wondering gunslingers.

“Wait,” he pants and Hanzo stops swaying his hips, worry overshadowing the glow that has been kindling on his skin.

They breathe in the silence, starring at each other. “Yer beautiful,” Jesse praises and Hanzo smiles. “I could write everything I love about you and I’d still be going even if winter ends. Yer the most gorgeous man I’ve met, Hanzo. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve and angel like you, to be able to see you with your wings down. But I thank ev’ry celestial being I know when the sun shines through my window in the mornin’ and yer still there.” To his surprise and joy, Hanzo loved curling under his western patterned covers and sleeping off a day’s work surrounded by old serapes, cowboy hats and spurred boots.

Jesse’s flesh hand caresses Hanzo’s scarred knee, where skin meets prosthetic. “Yer made of gold and iron in my eyes, darlin’. Much more than that, it’s something that gives me strength.” Jesse swears he sees falling stars in Hanzo’s eyes.

Jesse feels too vulnerable, speaking like this, while Hanzo smiles above him. The rays of the moon lighting his hips, but the shadow fading his Cheshire cat like eyes. With the assassin on top and his hand on Jesse’s chest—right over his heart—he looks like a god. Like he’s ready to rip Jesse’s beating heart and pull at its strings. Or as if he’s thinking on letting Jesse live whole, but keep him trap between his thighs as torture for the rest of his life.

“I like meeting you in the shadows, Jesse,” the archer speaks as he looks down at Jesse, covered by the shade. “It’s thrilling and _almost_ frightening not knowing what you will do to me. What words you will have me drink during our affair. I love the scars on you.” Hanzo’s hand traces a scar on Jesse’s side, while the other hand remains a threat to the cowboy’s heart. “You speak many tales and capture my attention with your voice. It calls to me during the nights that torment me on my own. They lead me to you. You are like a hunter in the dark corners of my room, patiently waiting for an opportunity to take me. Sometimes I wish to fight back, see how dominant you can become. Other times, I let you sweep me off my feet as easily as a feather.”

His chest swells in pride, in pure dominance like a wolf looking over his next victim. Jesse suddenly feels too vulnerable. Not just because he’s naked, but because of the words they have spilled between them. They haven’t say what this is yet, but those words were the closest to the most honest ‘I love you’ Jesse has ever delivered. He saw the chance of saying them between closed quarters, with no other pair of ears for miles nor enemies on their tails.

Hanzo still smirks proudly as he lowers his face and murmurs over Jesse’s lips, “but you will not be hunting tonight.”


End file.
